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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564416">get the tingles in a silly place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth'>harperuth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tickling, sex injuries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:01:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He was suddenly aware of a proximity alert tingling in a place he’d never received one before. He noted the alert with interest, but it wasn’t a danger alert. Just awareness.</p><p>- - - </p><p>Giveaway fic for Gaige, who asked for FulFire and tickling!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fulcrum/Misfire (Transformers)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>get the tingles in a silly place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fhwomp/gifts">Fhwomp</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thank you gaige for following and for a prompt that led me to answering the question "just how would tickling translate to a robot?"</p><p>title is from 'bubbly' by colbie caillat</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fulcrum was horrifyingly used to being pulled out of recharge by Misfire crashing down half on top of him at this point.</p><p>Before, it had startled him, his t-cog half engaged and full of terror about being the epicenter of an explosion before his processor could catch up to one: his frame was no longer capable of that, and two: he wasn’t in any danger anyways. Misfire was just a sprawler, it’s what he did. He sprawled on Krok when allowed, cuddled Crankcase all the time, practically lived hung on parts of Grimlock’s frame like a demented Probat whenever he could.</p><p>Now, he just onlined his optics to peer wearily down at his new blanket, “Time izzit?”</p><p>“Mmph,” Misfire wriggled until Fulcrum let his legs fall open for Misfire to settle between them, “Recharge time.”</p><p>“That was several groon ago,” Fulcrum’s processes were starting to online more completely, and he was suddenly aware of a proximity alert tingling in a place he’d never received one before. He noted the alert with interest, but it wasn’t a danger alert. Just awareness.</p><p>“For losers maybe,” Misfire mumbled, belaying the barely a jab with a nuzzle at Fulcrum’s abdominal plating. The proximity alert pinged again, resolving itself more exactly to a transformation seam on his inner thigh. He was still tracing the reason for the alert when it’s reasoning resolved itself.</p><p>Misfire exvented, a contented, sleepy sound, and the vent positioned directly over said transformation seam blew flight frame warmed air directly onto Fulcrum’s sensitive wiring. Fulcrum <em> yelped</em>, plating clamping tight and frame convulsing. The movement caught both of them off guard enough that Misfire was tipped out of the berth and onto the floor.</p><p>Feedback and— and <em> charge </em> skittered over the wiring, close enough to his array for it to ping a request to retract his cover.</p><p>“The <em> frag</em>, Ful—” Misfire’s helm appeared back over the edge of the berth and froze. Fulcrum realized it hadn’t been a request ping, rather an acknowledgement that his panels had <em> already opened</em>, charge and feedback loops still bubbling along all his circuits and causing his spike to rise half-pressurized out of its housing.</p><p>Fulcrum wasn’t sure if it was the unexpected reaction or being aroused directly out of recharge that was causing the lag in his processor, but he finally pinged the muffled laughter in the room as coming from <em> himself </em> and he couldn’t <em> stop</em>.</p><p>“Okay,” Misfire finally rebooted his own vocalizer, “I can work with that.”</p><p>- - -</p><p>“I am <em> not </em> talking to Spinister about this,” Fulcrum hissed, several good overloads later, “And I’m especially not letting him anywhere near my array.”</p><p>“Spin’s good though!” Misfire enthused, vocalizer staticky, and once more sprawled out on top of Fulcrum, “He’s very discreet.”</p><p>“Yeah, because I’m so worried about all four other mechs we know finding out,” Fulcrum deadpanned.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re giving me this gift,” Misfire kissed at Fulcrum’s chest plating.</p><p>“Besides, I already spend enough time navigating the risk factors of letting <em> you </em> near my array,” Fulcrum ignored him, “And let me tell you, those are considerable.”</p><p>“You say the nicestthings to me,” Misfire snickered, “Primus, I absolutely can’t wait.”</p><p>“What?” Fulcrum nudged at Misfire’s wing until it covered him up just the right way to recharge under perfectly.</p><p>“To say I told you so,” Misfire hummed, and Fulcrum was under before he could say anything back to that.</p><p>- - -</p><p>“This seam?” Misfire traced it with his digit and Fulcrum couldn’t suppress a full frame shiver.</p><p>“Yeah,” His vocalizer was already a little staticky, laughter lurking in the wings of his words, “Venting into it seemed— heh— pretty effective.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Misfire kept tracing the seam, face pulled into a parody of concentration. Fulcrum waited. If there was one thing Misfire was unquestionably good at, it was engineering interface positions for exactly what he needed, “Okay.”</p><p>He slid to the floor at the end of the berth, pulling Fulcrum with him until Fulcrum’s aft was just off the berth. Misfire slung Fulcrum’s left leg over his shoulder joint and clamped the other under his arm. Fulcrum’s proximity alert pinged him. </p><p>He dismissed it.</p><p>“I said venti— AH,” Fulcrum’s plating clamped tight, but Misfire, delightfully bigger than him, had wrapped his entire <em> arm </em> around Fulcrum’s thigh, digits dug into the seam just enough to keep it forced open to accept the warm air from Misfire’s vent, “Why— ha— do you— oh Primus slag—”</p><p>“Lateral axilla vent,” Misfire licked at his hip joint, still exventing softly into his seam.</p><p>“A-Armpi-i-it,” Fulcrum giggled. Flight frames were so fragging <em> weird</em>.</p><p>“See if I suck you off now,” Misfire grinned, vented air out a little faster, pushing a new cascade of sparks and feedback through Fulcrum’s frame. Slow charge burbled out of the confusion of input, stealing over his frame and opening his panel for him, and Misfire wasted no time getting his mouth on Fulcrum’s spike.</p><p>Fulcrum jerked, his back arching as he tried to interpret the feedback. It was so <em> much</em>, good and overwhelmingly bad all at the same time. He laughed helplessly, frame unable to find any other way to respond. He scrabbled at Misfire’s helm, “Mis— Haha— Ah— Misfire!!”</p><p>The feedback from his seam was starting to crash into a cascade of error warnings, all of it bunching up against the stream of input that was telling him ‘no, this is good, yes good,’ and all of <em> that </em> felt like a drop in the bucket compared to Misfire sucking his spike like there was no tomorrow.</p><p>“G-G-Gon— Ah—” Fulcrum tried to bat at Misfire, but his frame refused to respond. Spasms started seizing his hydraulics at random places in his frame, leaving him twitching and hysterically laughing. </p><p>Overload crashed through him, systems firing off so wildly that he was half concerned that he’d managed to find a way to actually explode this time. </p><p>Fulcrum’s vocalizer shorted out on a shriek as the error messages coalesced with the overload feedback and wrenched his leg out of Misfire’s grip, nearly taking Misfire’s digits off as his seam finally clamped shut. His hip joint hydraulics seized, clamping his leg pulled up tight to his abdominal plating.</p><p>“Oh Primus, ow, slagging ouch, stop, stop, ow,” Fulcrum finally got out, smacking at Misfire’s helm, “You’re going to suck my spike right off.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t that be a treat,” Misfire pushed up to loom over him with a grin. He put a servo on Fulcrum’s knee joint to push his leg out. It didn’t move.</p><p>“Don’t!” Fulcrum yelped, as his hydraulics pulled viciously at his internals.</p><p>“Are you…” Misfire stood fully and put his servos on his hips. Fulcrum didn’t like the smile spreading across his face, “You’re stuck.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Fulcrum covered his face with his servos, “Don’t speak again ever.”</p><p>“Up you get peg leg,” Misfire snickered, “Time to see Spin.”</p><p>- - -</p><p>“And you cannot close your panel,” Spinister didn’t phrase it as a question.</p><p>“No,” Fulcrum confirmed, face still hiding behind his servos and dutifully ignoring Misfire’s snickering next to him. This had already been such a fun trip to the W.A.P.’s “medbay.”</p><p>“Feedback?” Spinister hummed, and flipped Fulcrum’s lateral abdominal port, administering something that caused Fulcrum’s hydraulics to disengage. He sunk into the medberth, plating unclamping, leg finally releasing, and panel sliding shut. </p><p>“Oh thank Primus,” Fulcrum’s servos slid from his face. His helm lolled over to Misfire’s smug expression, “Yeah, feedback.”</p><p>Spinister stuck something in his seam to keep the plating lifted and Fulcrum stopped monitoring his sensor net on that side.</p><p>“Ah,” Spinister grabbed for something on the wall behind him without looking away from Fulcrum’s internals, “Snipped wire. Sparked when the live end got pushed into your other wires. Gotta cap it.”</p><p><em> I told you so </em>, Misfire mouthed at him. Fulcrum stuck his glossa out at him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come yell at me about robots on twitter @floralpunkcfb</p></blockquote></div></div>
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